Page 180 of Things Left Unsaid

“—I didn’t crash the damn plane?—”

“—and I don’t get a notice from the RCAF?*.” Anger ripples through me. “Family automatically gets notified.”

“Pops visited.”

My mouth tightens. “And didn’t tell us.”

“Asked him not to.”

“He listened?”

“He listens to me.”

God, he’s such an asshole.

I know where Cody gets it from.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose as I seek patience, I ask, “You okay?”

Cody and I used to be close, but too many deployments messed with that. Once upon a time, I missed him like I’d miss my right arm, but then Callan grew up and becameCallan. You don’t replace that type of closeness, but someone can rise in your esteem and stake a place in your soul.

That was Callan.

Even if heisa little shit who has no problem gossiping about his brothers.

“Been better.”

“You want to talk about it, let me know?”

“‘Course.”

“I mean it.”

His gaze is measured as he settles it upon me. “I do too.”

“Good.”

“I had a job offer.”

“Leaving as soon as you get here. Sounds about right,” I mutter, oddly annoyed with him.

Is it a crime that I miss my brothers?

This time, he shoves me. “It’s in town.”

“Can’t see you packing bags at the General Store.”

“I did that when I was a teenager and those were the best-packed bags in the entirety of Canada.”

“You always did think a lot of yourself.”

Chuckling, Cody finally answers with the truth. “The job’s with this new branch of cops they’re starting in the province. Marshals. I know some people who know some people and they got me an interview.”

“I never heard anything about this from the mayor.” Though granted, I’d heard about it in last year’s throne speech.

“Diddums,” he mocks. “Anyway, this is above the mayor’s pay grade. You’re looking at Pigeon Creek’s new marshal.” Then, he amends, “Once I complete basic training.”

“What about the RCMP?”

---